


Skin Deep outtakes

by SymbioticAntithesis



Series: this scar remain reflected [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Outtakes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-15
Updated: 2014-08-18
Packaged: 2018-02-13 05:23:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2138574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SymbioticAntithesis/pseuds/SymbioticAntithesis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>scrapped/edited scenes from Skin Deep</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first attempt at the beginning of chapter 3, and I didn't like it. It didn't feel right, so I took it out and tried something else. I'm much happier with what I have now. I also felt like I didn't _need_ to explain the details of what happened between Derek and Kate, and the Hale fire. Everything's innuendo in the actual chapter 3, but this section was a little more upfront about what actually happened.

Because the page before him read, 

_Kate Argent: guilty for first-degree murder, arson, and statutory rape._

Stiles’ heart stopped, his breath catching in his throat, and he hastily flipped to Kate’s statement. His stomach dropped when Stiles’ suspicions were confirmed and the room suddenly felt much too cold.

_Derek Hale, seventeen years old._

“Oh my god,” Stiles breathed. 

Was this what Laura meant, that she hoped that his regard for Derek wouldn’t change when he discovered the truth? How could he even think about doing something like that?

_I don’t want to see him hurt again._

Stiles scanned Kate’s statement further and felt anger roil in chest.  Though this woman was now behind bars, a burning hatred rose within him at how _cruel_ Kate was, how much pain and suffering she had caused.  And, according to the files, she hadn’t seemed to show a shred of remorse. Maybe a little for getting _caught_ , but none for manipulating a teenager and killing Derek and Laura’s family in cold blood.

But _was_ it in cold blood?  Stiles winced at the thought, immediately feeling guilty for assuming that there had to be a _reason_ for Kate and Gerard to kill the Hales.  But Stiles remembered the Hales as upstanding citizens of the town, if a bit secretive in their secluded house in the woods.  They were good people; his father had said as much.  So what could have possibly possessed someone – _two_ people from the same family, no less – to burn a family alive?

There was something missing. John’s reports stated Kate and Gerard’s psychosis as their reasoning with no further claim whatsoever on _why_.  It bothered him, it wasn’t right.  Sure, the general public could believe an act of insanity caused them to lose touch with humanity and reality, leading them to commit arson, but _Stiles didn’t believe it_.  There had to be more.

He sighed and closed the files, stacked them on his bedside table.  He stared at them speculatively, a deep empathy for Laura and Derek settling in his chest.  Stiles may not know what it’s like to lose his entire family, but losing his mother felt like the end of the world.  For Laura and Derek, the feeling must have been tenfold.

But Laura’s fear of Stiles’ opinion on Derek changing after discovering the truth was unfounded. Stiles wasn’t going to push Derek away. He may see Derek in a different light, but it wasn’t negatively.  Who was he to judge someone on their past mistakes?  Certainly not him.

Derek was Derek. Derek, who Stiles would’ve never guessed had a guilt and pain deeper than just losing his family. Derek, who Stiles has seen smile and laugh with only mere traces of a hidden secret.  Derek, who managed to rise and overcome his past hurts. Derek, who Stiles is in love with. He shuddered, his heart fluttering in his chest.

 _Love_.

Stiles loved Derek.

He _loves_ Derek.

Stiles crawled under his blankets and curled into a fetal position.  His heart hammered in his chest, but he felt a sense of calm wash over him. It was still terrifying, he didn’t know the first thing about love, didn’t know what to do.

He closed his eyes, huddled under the blankets, a small, vulnerable smile tugging at his lips.

 _I love him_. 

That night, he dreamed of his mother, how she used to smile and flick stray strands of hair out of Stiles’ eyes, how she used to trace the moles on the side of Stiles’ face. He dreamed that Claudia wasn’t diagnosed with spinocerebellar ataxia and that she knew Stiles didn’t feel right in her own skin when she caught her crying in the bathroom when she had her first period.  He dreamed that she cradled Stiles close and apologized for the times she had pushed femininity on her when she clearly didn’t identify herself as ‘she’.  He dreamed that Claudia and John got Stiles started on hormone therapy a few months later.

He also dreamed about the Hales. He dreamed that the fire didn’t happen. He dreamed that he and Laura became fast friends when they stumbled into each other in the tiny LGBT section of the Beacon Hills library.  He dreamed that he got to know that Hales and they adored him.  He dreamed that he and Derek slowly became friends, too. He dreamed that Derek _wanted_ him.  He dreamed of gentle kisses and soft caresses and Derek breathing his name in reverence.

If he woke up the next morning with tear tracks on his cheeks, no one needed to know.

^

Christmas came and went, the McCalls and the Stilinskis gathered around the table.  They ate a massive amount of food, they exchanged presents, they drank mulled wine and apple cider, and they enjoyed each other’s company. 

Stiles texted Derek a short message, but it was left unanswered throughout the day, and Stiles wondered if he’d said something wrong or somehow offended Derek.  He was good at that.  Sometimes unintentionally, and this time was definitely unintentional, but he couldn’t think of anything that might have caused Derek’s silence. The last text he got from Derek was when he was in the antique store, and that had been a few days ago. He contemplated for a moment texting Laura but he decided against it.

Just when he did, though, he received two messages from Laura.  One was a picture of her and Derek – Laura with a large Santa hat sitting jauntily on her head as she grinned at the camera, and Derek with a green elf hat with an expression of extreme discontent – and a simple _Merry Christmas!_ underneath.  The second text read, _btw, Derek’s being an ass.  Don’t take what he says (or rather, doesn’t say) personally.  He’ll come around._

Laura’s reassurance made Stiles feel marginally better about Derek’s sudden cold shoulder, but it still begged the question _why_.

He did his best to not think about it for he rest of the break and instead kept himself busy at the sheriff’s department.  Everything from filing to reorganizing to taking calls to harassing the newbies. John didn’t ask about Stiles’ sudden frenzy to bury himself in work; just let Stiles have free reign since majority of the department knew Stiles and were more or less used to his antics.

It helped a little, but there was still a burning ache in his chest


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These next few outtakes were my attempt to finally push Derek and Stiles together. Obviously I didn't like any of these.
> 
> This particular one is when my OMC Alex makes another appearance and nudges them both in the right direction. Erica and Boyd and some other OCs were actually going to make an appearance if I continued with this idea, but alas, I hated how it was going so I scrapped it.
> 
> I actually love Alex, so you'll definitely be seeing him in future one-shots/timestamps, and probably even the sequel. :)

It was nearly spring break when he finally phoned Alex and told him everything.  Well, almost everything.  And Alex’s response was to cajole Stiles into a weekend in San Francisco, and though Stiles had only reluctantly agreed because he hasn’t seen Alex in a while, the weekend ended up being a perfect break from life in Berkley. He and Alex caught up on everything they’ve missed in each other’s lives and Alex knew Stiles well enough that he managed to distract Stiles whenever he started to pine for Derek. Alex had taken Stiles’ unrequited love in stride and told Stiles that Derek must be pretty amazing if Stiles was completely gone on him.  And though his love was more like a numbing ache now, Stiles was still grateful that Alex as supportive, understanding, and patient as ever.

“Don’t sell yourself short, Stiles,” Alex said before Stiles left San Francisco.  “You’re worth much more than you think.”

Stiles was so stunned, he just nodded dumbly.  On the drive back to Berkley, he wondered vaguely if maybe he should take the chance that Scott and his father had been telling him to take since winter break and that maybe, just maybe, Alex was right and Stiles could have more than just Derek’s friendship.

Maybe he could have _Derek_ , and maybe even keep him.

Stiles was even more surprised when Derek dropped by his dorm that night and invited him to a watch his friends’ band play at one of the local clubs.

“It’s their first gig in a bigger and well-known venue, and I remember you said you like seeing live bands perform,” Derek said, looking nonchalant.  Stiles stared at him for a moment, a little slack-jawed, when he realized that Derek was _nervous_. Like he was worried that Stiles would turn him down.  Like this _meant something more_ than just going to a concert _for_ friends _with_ a friend.  Like –

“Are you asking me out?” he blurted.

Derek shifted, his ears turning slightly pink – a sure sign that he was embarrassed.  “If that makes you uncomfortable – ”

“No!” Stiles shouted, “I mean, yes – yes, I would love to go with you.  That’d be great.  I’d really like that,” he babbled.  He felt heat touching his cheeks, but he stared back into Derek’s eyes determinedly.

A small, tentative smile tugged the corner of Derek’s lips, “Okay, great.  It’s on Saturday.”

“All right,” Stiles said, grinning dopily.  “Perfect way to kick off spring break, right?”

Derek’s smile grew. “Yeah.”  He made an aborted move to lift his hand, but stepped back instead. “I’ll see you,” he said, sounding hesitant and vulnerable.

“Definitely,” Stiles said, nodding emphatically.  “Tomorrow at the coffee shop?  Usual time?”

Derek let out a soft laugh, “Okay.” He turned and walked down the hallway, leaving Stiles at the door staring after him.  Once Derek turned the corner, Stiles closed his door and immediately pulled out his phone, torn between feeling giddy with anticipation or annoyed and frustrated, because –

“ _Hey, Stiles_ ,” Alex said when he picked up on the second ring. “ _Miss me already?_ ”

“Did you put him up to it?” he asked without preamble.  “How did you even contact him?”

Alex laughed, “ _Stole his number off your phone_. _And yeah, I called him once you left. Gotta make sure that the guy you’re crazy in love with is good enough for you._ ”

“And?” Stiles asked, barely able to hide his nervousness behind a deadpan delivery. 

“ _You’ll be all right, Stiles_.”

“How did you know you weren’t gonna screw up my friendship with him?” he asked, almost angry at Alex’s meddling, but the fact that _Derek just asked him out on a date_ overrode any negative feelings.

“ _Honestly, it was almost like he **knew** I was going to call.  Did you tell him about me?_ ”

“Maybe once or twice,” Stiles admitted.  “Why? And what d’you mean he knew you were gonna call?”

“ _Well, he wasn’t at all surprised, for one.  And – this is the interesting part, actually – he thanked me for taking care of you._ ”

“What?” he said, taken aback.

“ _Yeah. And that’s when I decided that you’d be all right._ ”

Stiles fell silent. For once, he didn’t know what to say.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was actually my original idea to push Derek and Stiles together, but then I realized I wanted to do the whole werewolf revelation differently. First I thought about Stiles getting into some trouble and Derek and/or Laura had to save his butt, but then that would've introduced the Bad Guy for the sequel too soon. So I went with what you see in Skin Deep now: a simple and low-key confrontation between Laura and Stiles. It worked much better. And I dropped a tiny, almost minuscule hint that something was looming for our heroes. ;)
> 
> I actually had the whole 'flashy eyes' scene and the 'you actually want me' scene partially written since I posted the second part, and because I scrapped this section, I'm still glad I got to post it in some way or another.

“If you really want to see him,” Laura said, changing the subject.  _Again_.  “He’s working in the afternoon.”  She rested a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “Actually,” she said, “I insist you do.” 

Stiles licked his lips, his gaze dropping to the ground, his entire body tingling.  He wanted to see Derek.  He missed him over the break, and when he suddenly stopped talking to him Stiles had felt . . . bereft.  What the hell was he supposed to say to him, though?  Sorry you were emotionally manipulated by a crazy bitch who burned your childhood home to the ground, killing most of your family in the process? That wasn’t something he could just bring up.  But Stiles could understand why Derek closed himself off when he found out that Stiles would _know_ ; he probably wanted all of that locked in the past where it belonged.  But if Derek really thought that Stiles could ever either 1) betray him or 2) change his opinion of him for the worse, then Derek had another think coming.

He lifted his gaze to meet Laura’s and nodded jerkily, steeling his resolve.  Laura released his shoulder and took a step back. “I’ll see you later, Stiles,” she said, a warm smile on her lips.

“Yeah,” he said, returning the smile.  “Definitely.” 

He turned and strode out the door, confidence bolstered with Laura’s reassurance.  Stiles would have to sit through two classes before he could head to the library to confront Derek, but he could wait.  In order to fix his broach in Derek’s trust, he’d have to be patient.

^

Stiles couldn’t wait. He was antsy and fidgeted throughout both of his classes; he probably pissed off several of his classmates with his incapability to keep still and his constant pen tapping. Well, it was only the first day of the semester.  First days were never that important, anyway.

When his professor of his second class dismissed them after running quickly through the syllabus, Stiles was up and out of his seat in a flash and dashing down the hallway. He barely managed to weave in between other students mingling in the corridor, but he made it out of the building in one piece and only slightly ruffled.

He tried to think of what to say when he was finally face to face with Derek as he made his was across the quad. Surprisingly, he couldn’t think of anything.  He wasn’t going to apologize because he wasn’t exactly _sorry._ Well, that’s just it, though, wasn’t it? A play on words. He _could_ apologize because saying ‘I apologize’ didn’t really mean the same as ‘I’m sorry’.  But Stiles also didn’t want to use his words against Derek, not when Derek had already been manipulated with words and it had resulted in fire and ash.  He couldn’t – he _wouldn’t_ – do that to Derek. 

Stiles stopped in front of the library doors and took a deep breath before striding in. His heart was beating erratically in his chest when he glanced at the front desk, and Derek was there behind the counter, his gaze immediately locking with Stiles’ like he knew he was coming before he even entered the building.  Derek didn’t look mad, not even a little irritated. He looked calm, and the coolness of his eyes sent shivers up and down Stiles’ spine.  Stiles hated composure.  In his experience, it’s never meant anything good.

The doctor’s were composed when they told him and his father that his mother was dying.  They were composed when Claudia finally passed away. Claudia’s funeral was full of composure; only he and John were emotional wrecks.  The doctor who prescribed him his hormones was eerily composed, and only Melissa and John’s presence kept him from doing something stupid. Morell was always composed when he visited her in her office for his required consultations.

Stiles hated composure. He hated it so much that it became an integral part of himself, pretended he never _could_ compose himself.

It was a weird, stupid, and contradictory defense mechanism, but it worked.

Someone brushed by Stiles, jolting him out of his runaway thoughts.  He gaze shifted and skittered around the atrium, looking anywhere _but_ at Derek.  Stiles closed his eyes and took a breath before opening them again and striding up to the counter with false bravado.  As he got closer, he watched Derek’s reaction carefully.  He didn’t know what to look for, but he felt an odd sort of relief when he saw Derek’s eyes had a soft edge to them he hadn’t seen from afar.

Stiles reached the counter and neither of their gazes wavered. 

“My mom died when I was nine,” he blurted, and he watched Derek’s brows furrow in confusion. They weren’t exactly alone, and the front desk of Berkley’s library wasn’t the ideal place for this particular conversation, but . . . but Stiles needed to say something. Anything.  “Frontotemporal dementia,” he continued.  Stiles finally broke eye contact and looked at the ground, suddenly feeling exposed.  He’s never told anyone about his mother’s disease; the only ones who knew were John, Melissa, and Scott.  But, he figured if he invaded Derek’s privacy, then he might as well give up some of his own.

“Stiles – ”

“It’s the shrinkage of the frontal lobe of the brain,” he cut him off.  “Everyone has different symptoms, but my mom couldn’t tell the difference between reality and fantasy.”  He bit his lip and fidgeted with the sleeves of his hoodie.  “She’d lash out sometimes.  Have hallucinations.  It’s incurable, and my mom progressed incredibly fast and she died two years after she was diagnosed.”

He could feel himself trembling, and Stiles hasn’t felt this vulnerable in years.  Because, he supposed, physical hurt was one thing but emotional hurt was something else altogether.  Sometimes it was easier to break through emotional defenses than it was physical, especially if you knew where to hit.

“I watched her die, slowly, and I know it isn’t the same, and this kind of stuff can never be _compared,_ but – ”

“Stiles.”  He felt a hand land on his shoulder, steady and firm. “ _Breathe_.”

He managed several quick gasps of air, not even realizing when he had started to panic, nor when Derek had come around to his side of the counter.  He ducked his head and wiped angrily at an errant tear, sniffling softly. “Sorry,” he muttered.

“It’s – I'm sorry, too.”

Stiles risked a glance, and Derek looked . . . guilty.  He punched Derek lightly on the arm.  Was it pathetic of him to relish in the warmth he felt against his knuckles where he touched Derek? Yeah, probably. He couldn’t bring himself to really care, though.  “You better be, you jerk. I was _worried_ about you.”

“I didn’t think – not after what you found out – ”

“Derek,” he said, tentatively grabbing the same arm he just half-heartedly assaulted.  “It’s okay.”

Derek huffed, but didn’t look angry or annoyed.  Just a bit amused, but mostly worried and disbelieving.  “Okay? Not going to make it difficult for me?” he joked lightly.

Stiles shrugged and shook his head. “What’s the point? Not when – ”  He cut himself off and swallowed thickly, his gaze locked with Derek’s.  “You never know what your last words to someone will be.  I never want it to be a negative one.”

Derek looked surprised for a moment before a small, understanding smile pulled at his lips. “Yeah.  I get it.”

“So we’re good?” Stiles leaned forward a little, craving the heat radiating off Derek’s body.  He could _feel_ him, and he desperately wanted more.

Derek nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips.  “We’re good.”

Stiles smiled back. “Okay.”  He let out a quiet sigh of relief.  “Good.”

“Derek,” a voice said, and they turned to see Kali at the counter.  “Go on a coffee run for us, would you?”  She gave Derek a look that Stiles couldn’t quite decipher.  “And take your time.”

Derek inclined his head and reached over to loosely grab Stiles’ wrist.  Kali gave them a smile, both amused and fond, and waved them away. Derek tugged Stiles gently and led them out of the library, Stiles still reeling from the emotional rollercoaster of the past few minutes.

“Did your boss just send you on a fake coffee run so we could have some time together?” Stiles asked. 

“Yeah, she did,” Derek answered, not seeming at all bothered by it. 

“Right.”

“ _Do_ you want coffee?”

“I dunno,” Stiles said, bemused. “Haven’t decided yet.”

“Well, let me know when you do,” Derek said, letting go of Stiles’ wrist and shoved his hands in his pockets instead.  Stiles immediately missed Derek’s warmth, and he longed to pull Derek’s hand out of his pocket and lace their fingers together.  He didn’t, and they walked in amicable silence through the quad, meandering aimlessly without a clear destination in mind.  They were okay, and that was good enough for Stiles.

^ 

Things between him and Derek went back to normal.  After Stiles gave both Laura and Derek their late Christmas presents, they didn’t mention winter break or the past.  He did, however, end up telling Derek that he was friends with Allison Argent.  Stiles hadn’t known how Derek would react – was prepared for anything, really – but all Derek said was that he already knew and that it was okay. _How_ Derek knew was a completely different matter, and Stiles hadn’t asked. He just chalked it up as Derek having seen them walk around campus together. 

And though Stiles was still so very curious, he tried his best to let the Hale case go. Even if the siblings looked like they were ready and open (more or less) to answer his questions. He knew how painful it was to talk about a past hurt and he didn’t want to make Derek relive his mistakes.

After all, Derek was still his friend – admittedly, one of his best friends with whom he was in love with – and that was more than he could ever hope for.  Sometimes he’d almost slip up during his random rants, but he always managed to catch himself in time.  He didn’t want to see Derek hurt, not after what Kate had done to him, and if it meant that he’d never really know the truth . . . then fine.

But as the semester wore on, and the more time they spent together – practically every day now – Stiles fell in love with Derek just a little bit more.  And the harder he fell, the stronger his resolve grew.  He wasn’t going to hurt Derek.  Not if he could help it.

Which meant keeping his feelings to himself.

And as much as he loved Derek, as much as he wanted him to be happy, it still hurt him down to his core that he couldn’t have anything _more_. He could have Derek’s smile and his laugh and his light, friendly touches, but he wouldn’t have his kisses or his caresses.  Stiles wasn’t even sure if he was being completely self _less_ or self _ish_.  Because as much as it hurt to be with Derek but not be able to touch, Stiles hated when he was without Derek, and the very thought of cutting Derek out of his life was unfathomable.

For the first time in a very long time, Stiles didn’t know what to do.

^ 

It was the week of spring break and Stiles wanted – no, _needed_ – to blow off some steam.  He and Derek had become closer than ever, and Stiles could’ve sworn that there was much more _flirting_. Stiles flirted because he had nothing to lose, because it was _fun_ , and whenever he flirted with Derek it was never really taken seriously. After all, their relationship practically grew out of them flirting with each other.  If Stiles’ flirts were genuine, well, Derek didn’t need to know. He _didn’t_ know, as far as Stiles knew.

But recently, Stiles had a feeling that Derek was being more . . . _serious_ with his flirtations.  Whatever that meant.  He never really saw Derek flirt with anyone else – though when he did, he was definitely a smooth talker – and he flirted with Stiles almost naturally, so Stiles’ hunch that Derek might actually _mean it_ , well, Stiles was dubious.

Even so, there was a different glint in Derek’s eye when he said certain things that made Stiles almost believe that Derek wanted him back.  He never let his hopes up, though, and brushed the ‘serious’ flirts aside with banter.

It was easier that way. 

So when Isaac Lahey, a former classmate and Danny’s boyfriend of several months invited him and Allison for a night out in the town, Stiles jumped at the opportunity.  What better way to relieve some stress than at a club?

He dressed his best that night: skinny jeans, button down collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up just past the elbows.  His hair was tastefully messy and he dabbed on his favorite cologne.  He looked good, and Stiles rarely complimented himself.

Stiles left his dorm early so he could meet up with Allison, Danny, and Isaac for some pre-gaming. He hadn’t seen Isaac or Danny for a while, and Stiles was more than happy to reconnect with old friends. Anything to keep his mind off the vague possibility that Derek might actually be interested in him. And with that in mind, he probably drank one drink too many and was completely smashed by the time they got to the club. 

He didn’t really care, though. Tonight was for himself, for fun, and he let himself be swept away into the crowd, into the music. He danced with whoever wanted to dance and kissed several people he wouldn’t remember how they looked in the morning. Near the end of the night, he was relaxed and content, and surprisingly almost sober.  Allison must have slipped him more bottles of water than he could remember.  His head and vision were still a bit fuzzy, his mouth was dry, but he was still pretty steady on his feet.

He was sober enough, at least, to know that he definitely did _not_ want to be in the vicinity of this guy who _wouldn’t let go of his wrist_.  Stiles tried to pull away, but the guy was persistent, tugging him in close and gripping at his hips to keep him there.  Stiles braced his free hand against the guy’s chest and pushed firmly.

“Woah there, buddy. Personal space.”

The guy grinned lecherously, but ignored him.  Stiles cursed under his breath and tried to wriggle away, looking through the mass of bodies for a familiar face – Allison, Isaac, Danny, _anyone_ – to help him get out of the situation.  The guy was bigger than him, more muscular, and Stiles knew he wouldn’t be able to overpower him.

“C’mon, gimme a kiss. You were loose lipped with all the other people you were with,” the guy breathed hotly on his cheek. He smelled like bile and cigarettes and one too many beers.

Stiles grimaced and wrinkled his nose.  Yeah, no, definitely needed to get out of here.  “Not with you, nope. Go find someone else, dude.”

The guy growled – _growled_ – and grabbed Stiles closer, and he winced at the pressure against his wrist and hipbones.  But Stiles could have sworn he heard another growl from behind him.

“He told you he wasn’t interested,” said a familiar voice, and Stiles startled, attempting to twist around to face the newcomer.

“Derek?” he squeaked.

Derek – god, he even looked gorgeous in a simple Henley and jeans that left little to the imagination – flicked his gaze to him, nodded, and turned his attention back to the guy who still refused to let him go. 

“Wouldn’t mind sharing, if you’re into that kind of thing,” the guy said, and Stiles couldn’t help the sound of disgust that escaped his mouth.

“Let.  Him.  Go.” Each word was emphasized with a step forward, until Derek was barely a foot away and staring the other guy down, and Stiles swore he saw Derek’s eyes flash electric blue for a brief second. Apparently the dude that was harassing him thought so, too, because his hands were suddenly gone and he hightailed it out of there like nobody’s business.  Stiles swayed on the spot from the sudden disappearance of the guy’s weight, but a hand steadied him.  He looked up at Derek, confused and just a bit disoriented.

“Your eyes – ” Stiles started, but cut himself off when Derek reeled him in, his hands warm on Stiles’ hips, his touch so different and so much more welcome than the hands before.

Derek leaned in, his breath ghosting over Stiles’ neck, making him shiver.  “Later.”

Stiles was never good at ‘later’; not when it was for _a talk_. He’d rather get it over with, rather have it all out in the open.  If it was any other person, Stiles would take a step back and say _no, we’re talking now_ , but it was Derek, and Derek was warm and solid against him and . . . and he wanted to cherish this feeling of Derek’s essence encompassing him so completely.  Especially if it was the only time he’d be able to experience it, he wasn’t going to let it go.  So Stiles placed his own hands on Derek’s hips, threaded a few fingers through his belt loops, and rested his forehead against Derek’s shoulder, breathing him in.

“Okay.”

^

He didn’t know how long they swayed absently and off-rhythm to the music, but eventually Derek dropped his hands from Stiles’ hips, ran them down his arms and gripped Stiles’ wrists gently.  “We have to talk.”

Stiles grunted, not wanting to move his head from its comfortable spot on Derek’s shoulder. “Always a stellar opener for an impending conversation of doom.”

Derek snorted, “So melodramatic.”

“You – ”

“Come on,” he interrupted, taking a step back and pulling Stiles along behind him.

“Woah, hold your horses, man. I gotta tell my friends – ”

“I’ve told Allison already.”

Stiles opened his mouth, closed it, dumbfounded.  “You what? I thought you didn’t like the Argents.”

Derek sighed, “Stiles, that conversation is for another day.”

“Oh, really,” he said drily. 

“Yes, really,” Derek responded in kind.  “And as charming as I think it is when you try and pick a fight, I would much rather discuss what I have to tell you without pretense and with some privacy.”

Stiles gaped at him stupidly as Derek herded him out of the club and into the streets. What the hell was Derek even talking about?  He was _so_ confused.  But Stiles followed him obediently and slid into the passenger seat of the Camaro when Derek opened the door for him.  He sank into the leather and fiddled with the hem of his shirt. Neither of them spoke for several minutes as Derek drove them back towards campus.

“So, uh, are we gonna talk about what’s going on with,” Stiles wiggled his fingers in front of his face, “The whole flashy eyes thing?  And what were you even doing at a club, anyway?  You don’t really seem like the type.” 

Derek glanced over to him with an amused look.  “What makes you think I _don’t_ go to clubs? And yes, we’ll talk about the ‘flashy eyes thing’ when we’re at my apartment.”

“Oh, is that where we’re going,” Stiles said.  “And clubs wouldn’t be your thing.  Reading a classic novel at home in your beat up sweats are more your thing.”

Derek smiled softly. “Fair enough,” he said.

Stiles swallowed, his heart fluttering in his chest, and _god_ he loved this man so much.  Just the image of Derek curled up in an armchair or on a couch in his old clothes that’s seen better days, but is the softest and most comfortable because of it made him yearn. Yearn for him sharing Derek’s space, to actually _experience_ it. Stiles settled back into the seat, his mood dropping, and neither of them said anything the rest of the drive.

Once Derek parked, Stiles heaved himself out of the car and waited for Derek to come around to show him the way to his apartment.  He followed Derek to the apartment complex – they were more like townhouses, really – and followed him up the few steps to the front door.

“Laura’s home, but she’ll likely leave once she realizes what we’re talking about.

“Why does this sound more and more ominous by the second?” Stiles asked, unenthusiastic.

Derek huffed, “You have nothing to fear from us, Stiles.  I promise.” 

“Still don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered as Derek unlocked the door and held it open for him to enter first.  From the entrance, the short hallway opened up to the living room and to the left was the kitchen.  Derek placed a hand on the small of his back and guided him to the right and towards another hallway with three doors.  Derek nudged him towards the second door on the left.  They entered and Derek turned on the lights and closed the door. Derek sighed and turned to face Stiles.  He watched Derek’s jaw work but turned away when nothing was forthcoming. Instead, he took in Derek’s room.

It was simple, with a bookshelf and desk on one side, the closet on the other, and the bed in the center next to a window.  The walls were bare, but there were random trinkets on top of the bookshelf that Stiles would’ve loved to take a closer look at.  There was a single picture frame on the desk.  It was of Derek and Laura looking only a few years younger than they were now. Stiles had the sudden depressing thought that all of Derek and Laura’s possessions – even the simplest things like photographs – were all lost in the fire.  They might not even have a picture of the family they lost all those years ago.

“So,” he said, trying to go for levity, “Did you just lure me to your lair for no reason?”

Derek raised an eyebrow and shook his head fondly, a ghost of a smile on his lips.  “There’s no easy way to start this conversation,” he admitted.

Stiles looked at Derek who looked oddly . . . _small_. He swallowed, “Okay. Why don’t you just,” he waved his arm absently.  “I dunno, man. You’re usually not this taciturn, I mean you _are_ , especially compared to me, but I’ve never really actually seen you at a loss for words,” he started to babble. He suddenly felt nervous, felt the need to fill the impending silence.  Stiles had no idea what Derek could possibly have wanted to talk to him about, especially _in private_. “Is this bad news? Is this a _bad_ conversation?  Is that why you don’t know what to say?”

“Stiles – ” 

“‘Cause whatever it is, I’m sure we can work it out, yeah?  Or you can work it out.  If you, y’know, don’t want me to help you work it out.”  Stiles winced.  “Is it about the Argents? About Allison? I mean I know I don’t know the whole story, but Allison’s great once you get to know her.  And I know you’re not the type to hold a grudge, or judge people without knowing them first.  You’re friends with me, after all, right?”

“ _Stiles_ – ”

  
“And I know it sucks that – ”

Derek huffed, exasperated, and strode forward to stop Stiles’ deluge of words.  With his mouth on his.  He was _not_ prepared for that, and Stiles is pretty sure he squeaked in surprise.  Stiles whimpered shamelessly against Derek, scrabbling desperately at Derek’s shoulders, his arms, _anything_ to anchor him.  Derek’s lips were warm and soft, his hands a gentle pressure on his back, keeping him in place but still giving him the chance to pull away (like he would do something like _that_ when everything he’s ever wanted was _happening right this instant_ ). Stiles surged forward and buried his fingers into Derek’s hair pressing himself impossibly closer into Derek. He groaned when Derek ran his tongue teasingly across the seam of his lips, dipping in just enough to tantalize.

“Derek,” he shivered. “I – ” 

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” Derek murmured.

Stiles blinked rapidly to try and clear the fog of desire that started to cloud his mind. “You have?” he asked.

“Yeah.”  He nipped Stiles’ bottom lip, which made him groan. “Even before you found out about Kate, but especially after when you didn’t treat me any differently from before.”

“I’ve wanted it, too,” he admitted, his voice unsteady.  “But – ” He licked his lips and swallowed nervously, darting his eyes away.  “Me?” The word sounded so brittle, so skeptical, but Stiles didn’t – _couldn’t_ – believe it.

Derek rested his forehead against his and sighed softly.  “I admire your passion, your loyalty, your curiosity, and your tenacity. I empathize with how much you’ve overcome.  I love how you can make me laugh, how your presence calms me, how I want you to the last person I talk to at the end of the day.”  Derek placed a kiss on his brow and removed one of his hands to lift Stiles’ chin, forcing him to look Derek in the eye again.  “I want you.”

Stiles shivered, and let out a tiny gasp of disbelief.  “Why – I – ” he managed, his entire body shaking. “Oh my god,” he said in awe. “You want me.” Stiles clenched his fingers at the base of Derek’s neck, relishing the feel of _Derek_ and his warmth under his hands.  “Like, actually really want me.  Not to humiliate me or as a conquest, but _me_ as a person.”

Derek growled lowly, “Someone’s done that to you?”

Stiles shrugged helplessly, “Who wouldn’t?”  Derek’s frown deepened and it looked like Stiles had insulted him personally and like Derek wanted to rip the throat out of whoever dared hurt Stiles.  It made his limbs tingle and hope surge in his chest that someone _cared_ that much. Derek dipped his head down to place another brief kiss – _too brief_ – on his lips.  “I have something else to tell you.”

“I – what?” he asked, surprised at the sudden subject change.  “Can’t it wait?  I kind of want to go back to the kissing.”

Derek chuckled, “I would like to as well, but this is important.”

Stiles furrowed his brow, confused and worried.  “Okay. What is it?”

Derek took a breath and released his hold on Stiles, and Stiles made a vague noise of protest. But Derek shook his head and took a step back.  “There’s something about me you don’t know about, something that I can’t change, and if you can’t accept this part of me – ”  Stiles watched Derek’s jaw work, his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed.  “This won’t be able to work.”

“Derek – ” Stiles started, reaching out, but stopped himself halfway.  “If Kate didn’t change my mind about you,” he said, “Nothing will.”

Derek gave him a wry smile, “I hope so.  But you have to understand, Stiles,” Derek said, the smile disappearing.  “The last time I trusted someone with this, my family paid the price.”

Stiles opened his mouth, shut it, bit the inside of his cheek.  “I’d never do that.”

“I know you wouldn’t,” Derek sighed. He gave him a tiny smile, “Promise not to freak out?”

“I’ll . . . do my best,” Stiles said.

Derek nodded, then his face started to change.  Stiles gasped as Derek’s ears elongated, his canines lengthened into sharp points, his claws – _he had claws_ – grew from his fingernails, and god, his eyes were an electric blue. His heart hammered in his chest – out of fear or adrenaline or wonder, Stiles wasn’t sure – but Stiles couldn’t move. He simply stared at Derek with his mouth agape.

“Oh my god,” he breathed. “Oh my god.”  He took a tentative step forward, and Derek averted his eyes to the floor, his fingers curled into fists at his sides. Stiles licked his lips and closed the distance between them and with shaking fingers, touched Derek’s cheek. Derek growled softly and Stiles involuntarily flinched, but Derek bowed and tilted his head, exposing his neck to him. “What – ”

“Werewolf,” Derek said. “Most of my family were wolves. That’s why – ” 

“ _Kate_?” Stiles hissed.  “She did that because – ”

“The Argents are hunters,” Derek said, lifting his gaze, his wolf features melting back to human.

“But you guys didn’t _do_ anything,” he said, affronted.  “Why – ”

“Kate and Gerard ignored the code,” Derek said, lifting a tentative hand and placing gently on Stiles’ hip. “Hunters are only supposed to kill a wolf if they’ve hurt someone or are out of control, but even then there are politics involved.”

“I can’t – I don’t – ”

“I understand if you don’t want – ” 

“ _No_ , it’s not that,” Stiles said vehemently.  “It just makes sense now.”  It all made sense.  Why Kate and Gerard burned the Hale house down.  Why the crime seemed completely random.  Why Kate and Derek’s relationship seemed so contrived.  _It made sense_. And dude, _werewolves_. Who would’ve thought?

Derek stared at him for a moment longer, still mildly confused before a smile spread across his lips. “Wolves have heightened senses,” Derek said, leaning into Stiles’ space.  “I can hear your heartbeat, smell your emotions, and they’re telling me that you believe me and that you still want me.”

Stiles flushed, but lifted his chin in defiance.  “What’re you gonna do about it, then, Derek?” he said, a challenging glint in his eye.

Derek’s smile widened into a grin and he swept Stiles off his feet.  Stiles laughed and wrapped his arms and legs around Derek as he took the few steps across the room to deposit them on the bed.  “I have several things in mind,” he mouthed into Stiles clavicle, and Stiles tilted his head back, giving Derek access to anything and everything he wanted.

^

Stiles woke up the next morning feeling warm and pliant and completely rested.  He hummed happily and burrowed his nose deeper into the pillows. Not his pillows, though. He could feel Derek’s warmth flush against his back making him smile dopily.  They hadn’t gotten far in their make out session the night before – Derek had been frustratingly adamant about it – so they were more clothed than Stiles would have liked.  Stiles was only wearing his briefs and his shirt; his jeans and sports bra were somewhere on the floor.  Derek had sweats on, and Stiles had bemoaned the fact that they were naked on different halves of their bodies so the only skin-to-skin contact they had when they fell asleep was Derek’s lips against the nape of his neck and their entwined fingers.

He wriggled around in Derek’s arms so he could turn to face him, and his smile grew when he saw that Derek was already awake.

“Hey,” he said goofily.

Derek pecked him on the nose.  “Hey yourself.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These were really weird and jarring flashbacks that I had in my second attempt to write the werewolf revelation with Laura. The whole flashback thing didn't fit with the style I already established in the last two parts and the first half of the third chapter, so I scrapped it. I hated it.

_“You guys are **what**?” he shouted._

_“Werewolves,” Laura said, calm.  “Me and Derek and most of my family.  The Argents – ”_

_“Oh my god,” he said, finally fitting that final piece he’d been missing from the Hale files.  “Kate – ”_

_The corner of Laura’s lip quirked upwards.  “I knew you noticed something was off,” she commented. “The Argents are hunters.”_

_“But you guys didn’t do anything,” he said, affronted. “Why – ”_

_“Kate and Gerard ignored the code,” Laura agreed.  “Hunters are only supposed to kill a wolf if they’ve hurt someone or are out of control, but even then there are politics involved. Most of the time the fate of a rouge wolf is the local Alpha’s decision.”  Laura pinned Stiles with a stare, her eyes glowing red. “But some hunters think all wolves are monsters, animals that need to be put down.”  Stiles swallowed, but stood up straighter, met Laura’s gaze. “What do you believe, Stiles?”_

- 

_“That’s for Derek to tell you, not me,” she said._

_“Why is this one’s Derek’s choice and not yours?” he asked._

_“I’m Derek’s Alpha, and that means regardless of what he **wants** , I can override his decisions. He didn’t want me to tell you about our heritage because he didn’t want to alienate you. And,” she sighed, “I think he also didn’t want to make the same mistake he did with Kate.” She gave him a weak smile. “Our family paid the price because he thought he could trust her.”_

-

And as difficult as it was to avoid Derek, it seemed that Derek was also keeping his distance. When he questioned Laura after one of her seminars, she told him that Derek was simply waiting for Stiles to come to him.  Or rather, she _ordered_ Derek to wait for Stiles.  He wasn’t completely sure what that meant (if it meant anything at all), but it was reassuring that Laura still wanted them to be friends at the very least.  If Derek didn’t know about his feelings for him, Stiles was almost certain Laura did. Though when Stiles really thought about it, it was unlikely that Derek _didn’t_ know.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really short and sweet, just Derek telling Stiles about his family. Which I ended up giving the honor to Laura instead. :P
> 
> The second little part was when I was writing about Derek's wolf and wanted Laura in on it, too, but decided the whole wolf form thing was Derek getting to know Stiles more as a potential mate/partner and Laura didn't fit in well with that so I took it out.

“My mother,” Derek swallowed, took a deep breath.  Stiles hesitantly reached for Derek’s shoulder, but Derek caught his hand before he could make contact and instead threaded their fingers together.  “My mother was Alpha of my pack,” he continued.  “After the fire, the spark passed to my sister.  Laura is my Alpha, I’m her beta.  It’s just the two of us.”

 

 

^

 

 

Sometimes he’d have _both_ Laura and Derek in wolf form smothering him with their warmth and affection, though Stiles didn’t really mind it all that much.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And finally! This was going to be the beginning of the original ending, with me introducing a new set of problems for the Hales and Stiles. But I figured I could save that revelation for the actual beginning of the sequel that's still simmering in the back of my mind.
> 
> Hope y'all enjoyed these random scenes, and thanks for reading Skin Deep!

He took a step back, tugging Stiles with him.  Stiles followed, and they made their way to the kitchen.  Laura was sitting at the counter, picking at the breakfast sandwich in front of her.  She gave them both a cursory glance as they sat.

“So,” Laura said, eying them both with a glint in her eye.  “I see that Derek finally pulled his head out of his ass.”  Derek scowled but Laura ignored him.  “I’m happy for you,” she said, and Stiles watched as a brief look of surprise pass over Derek’s face.  “Really.”  She looked between them with a small but genuine smile.

Derek nodded, “Thank you.” 

Laura inclined her head and flashed her eyes, and Derek responded by tilting his head to the side and baring his throat.  Stiles watched, fascinated and intrigued.

“What – ”

“Simply pack protocol,” Laura answered.  She turned to him and grinned, “The Alpha always has to accept a mate before it can be official.”

Stiles nodded, bemused.  He didn’t really get it, but okay.


End file.
